At first we were all quite enthralled. It was a perfect David Attenborough moment. I was possessed by the urge to start narrating everything sotto voce: "And now the Cooper's Hawk rests on the Garry oak with its prey, a single Song Sparrow, plucked out of the very air in an instant. The forest falls silent and watchful as the hawk disembowels its catch swiftly and efficiently, spilling not even one drop of blood." But the puffs of feathers swirling overhead periodically kind of spoiled the mood for me, and instead we all fell silent and watchful as the hawk ripped and tore, dipping his head every now and then as he swallowed. We stood there for what seemed like ages, watching that hawk, until he gave a final gulp and lifted off the branch. He circled a few times, then flew away towards Bird Lake.
A blog about the lives of a classical homeschooling family, in the idyllic Wet Coast, err, West Coast, of British Columbia. Oh, I know, it doesn't ALWAYS rain...it just seems like it.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Scene of the Crime
At first we were all quite enthralled. It was a perfect David Attenborough moment. I was possessed by the urge to start narrating everything sotto voce: "And now the Cooper's Hawk rests on the Garry oak with its prey, a single Song Sparrow, plucked out of the very air in an instant. The forest falls silent and watchful as the hawk disembowels its catch swiftly and efficiently, spilling not even one drop of blood." But the puffs of feathers swirling overhead periodically kind of spoiled the mood for me, and instead we all fell silent and watchful as the hawk ripped and tore, dipping his head every now and then as he swallowed. We stood there for what seemed like ages, watching that hawk, until he gave a final gulp and lifted off the branch. He circled a few times, then flew away towards Bird Lake.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment